


Heart on Your Sleeve

by fluffybookfaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffybookfaerie/pseuds/fluffybookfaerie





	Heart on Your Sleeve

It was Molly's second time inside the tattoo shop. The first time, she'd looked around at the tall, glaring, heavily pierced bottle-blonde woman at the counter and the picture of a very large, very naked stylized vagina in full color hanging on the wall with the other sample tattoos, and she'd walked right back out.  
Sally had told her it was the best in the area, though it certainly wasn't the cheapest, and if she was going to do this, she wanted to do it right, so she braced herself and came back. The vagina was still there, but the woman at the counter had been replaced by a sharp-featured woman with dark hair. She was wearing a red silk sleeveless top that displayed her slender arms and the delicate black tattoos they wore.  
"What would you like?" asked the woman. At first glance, she was certainly less intimidating than the large man, but there was something about the bright red of her lipstick that warned of danger. Molly squared her shoulders and stepped forwards.  
"Could I make an appointment for a tattoo, please?" she asked.  
"I could do you now, if you'd like," the woman said, without even glancing at the computer for confirmation. Her wicked red lips quirked into a half-smile.  
Molly blushed and looked down, wondering if the double entendre was intentional, and suspecting that it was. "That would be good."  
"Do you have a design in mind?" asked the woman, cocking her head as she looked Molly up and down, her eyes lingering on her bitten nails, her hair in its neat but probably borderline greasy bun, and the curve of her neck.  
"Um. Yes," Molly said, trying to match the woman's aggressive stare. "I was thinking a heart, anatomically correct, not the little--well, you know, just a real heart, with pink and gold blood coming into the vena cava and out of the pulmonary vein, only I couldn't really find a picture I liked online and I'm not much of an artist so, um, is that okay, do you think?"  
"I can do that," the woman (whose name tag, Molly noted, read "Irene") said, smiling that same smile again. Irene turned around and bent down to pick something up from a shelf behind the counter. Molly tried very hard to look away from her jeans and how they pulled tight over her bum. "Feel free to look around," Irene said, and Molly blushed again.  
She straightened and faced Molly again, displaying the set of colored pencils and the paper she'd retrieved. She selected a black one, first, and began to sketch.  
"Now, I'm assuming you want something small, so you can hide it from your colleagues and," she glanced up, "your students?"  
Molly laughed, surprised. "How did you guess?" she asked. She looked down at her outfit, but she already knew she wasn't wearing her UCL sweatshirt.  
"You have that grad student look about you." She switched from the black pencil to a pink shade with one deft movement. "Forensics?" she asked, without looking up.  
"Yes!" said Molly, delighted. "But you didn't guess that one from the bags under my eyes."  
"No," Irene said, switching to a different shade of pink. "That one I guessed from the smell of formaldehyde that follows you around."  
Molly gasped and covered her face. "Oh no! I'm so sorry, I took a shower before I came, I promise--"  
A cool finger lifted her chin, and she let her hands fall from her face as she saw that Irene was smiling hungrily at her. "It was a joke," she said.  
"Right," said Molly, a bit peeved now. It was something of a sore spot for her--Sally complained all the time, even threatening to move out and leave her to find a new roommate on occasion. "Well, it wasn't funny."  
Irene looked far from cowed. If anything, she looked more intrigued as she went back to sketching.  
"How did you know, then?" Molly asked.  
Irene switched to a gold pencil. "I'm a good guesser."  
Molly didn't think that was really an answer, but she liked it, nonetheless.  
"There," announced Irene, turning the page to face Molly with a flourish.  
It was perfect. The black line art of the heart was simple and elegant, and the pink and the gold jumped in a vivid stream off the page.  
"That pink--" Molly murmured, brushing the picture with the tips of her fingers. "It's really lovely."  
"It's the color of your blush," Irene murmured back, and in response, of course, Molly blushed again.  
"It's perfect," she told Irene. “I can’t believe you did it all from memory, that’s just—it’s perfect.” It was different than she'd imagined it--a little gorier, truth be told. Despite the difference in color, Irene had managed to make the blood really look like blood. But that was good, she thought. It suited her.  
"Shall we get started, then?" Irene asked, gesturing to a small room off to the side. Molly nodded, her mouth suddenly very dry. She was getting a tattoo! It was really happening.  
"What's your dissertation on, precious?" Irene asked, as she led Molly into the room and sat her down in a large chair.  
"It's about the beetles I'm breeding. They're three times as efficient at getting the flesh from bones than the standard species!" She glanced at Irene, hoping the topic wasn't too morbid for her, but Irene was just fastening a fresh needle on the machine.  
“Dermestids?” Irene asked. “Is it their metabolism or their rate of reproduction that you improved on?”  
“Oh!” Nobody outside of the university ever asked her questions about her dissertation. “How do you know about dermestids?”  
Irene smiled a private smile to herself. “I knew an American ornithologist once. Or, at least, I knew what she liked.”  
“Anyway,” Molly continued. “It’s their rate of reproduction, actually. And of course, most of it was just luck, but my adviser says the National Forensic Journal will be looking to publish it once I'm done.” She mumbled that last part shyly.  
"Smart girl," Irene remarked, raising an eyebrow in a way that made Molly suddenly very aware that they were alone in a room together. "Where do you want it?"  
“Want—oh! The tattoo!” Molly blushed, and then she blushed harder because she knew the other woman noticed her blushing, and then pointed at her left breast. "Above my heart."  
Irene paused, but said nothing, as she pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol.  
"Um," Molly said, suddenly feeling very silly. "I guess I'll have to take my shirt off now." She laughed nervously.  
Irene looked down at her. "I'm a professional, you know," she said, putting a hand on her hip. "I have tattooed naked girls before." But she didn't look offended. "I promise I won't try anything."  
"Yes," said Molly dubiously. She didn't think she'd mind if the other woman did try anything, but she also didn't think she could undress properly under that sharp, hungry gaze. "Turn round."  
She flinched as the words came out more sharply than she'd intended, but Irene looked delighted to obey. "Yes, ma'am," she murmured.  
Molly unbuttoned her shirt quickly, and her heart sank as she saw that she'd worn her Hello Kitty bra. Well, at least it was clean.  
"You can turn back now, Irene," Molly said.  
"You know," Irene said, as she poured the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball. "I still don't know your name, precious."  
Molly inhaled sharply as the cotton ball touched her skin, from both the cold of the alcohol and the intimacy of the touch. Irene kept a clinical distance, but the brief touch still electrified her.  
"You've guessed everything else about me," said Molly, blinking up at Irene. "I think I'll keep that to myself for now." She smiled slowly, and Irene gave her a delighted smile in return.  
"Perhaps I'll guess that too." Irene pulled off the cap of a marker with her teeth, and something in Molly's stomach turned over watching her lips.  
She traced an outline for the tattoo on Molly's breast, and though again she was respectful, never allowing her hand to linger, the cool line of the marker was a delicious, teasing caress, and by the time she was done, Molly was squirming in her seat.  
And finally, it was time. Irene brought the tattoo machine to life with a whir.  
"Um." Molly cleared her throat. "Is it going to hurt?"  
Irene leveled a gaze at her and silenced the machine for a moment, and Molly could have kicked herself for asking such a childish question. "You could have asked for a tattoo on your arm, or your leg, which wouldn't have been quite so bad, but you made one of the most painful choices, didn't you?" Molly flushed, but didn't look away as Irene leaned closer. "You wanted it to hurt."  
"Yes," Molly breathed, close enough that their noses could touch if she moved just a hair sideways. "I'm ready."  
Irene picked up the tattoo machine again.  
"Wait!" Molly interrupted again. "Do you want to have dinner tonight?"  
"Well," Irene said, dissecting Molly with her eyes, and Molly's breath caught in her throat. Had she been wrong about this? Was she not interested after all? "Let's start with dinner, and then..." Irene gave her a full smile. “If you like this, you’ll like my other talents even better.”


End file.
